


Don't You Forget About Me

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s12e11 Regarding Dean, F/M, Memory Loss, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Post-“Regarding Dean”. You try to forget the way Dean looked at you when he didn’t know who you were – because he would never look at you like that with all his wits about him. Would he?





	Don't You Forget About Me

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s just say for the purposes of this fic that a little bit of what happened to Dean when he lost his memory comes back to him with a little help from Sam. It’s kinda AU from the episode, but the majority of the details are the same.
> 
> Spoilers for 12x11, mild smut, language. Not really angst, but Feelings. Unprotected sex – don’t do this in real life, friends.

Logically, you know there was a time when Dean Winchester didn’t know you. He didn’t know your name, he didn’t know that you were a hunter, and if he walked past you on the street he never would’ve taken a second glance. 

You know that, but it still hurts when he falls under a witch’s spell and looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his life. 

You’ve been hunting off and on again with the Winchesters for the last three years or so, and Sam calls you when he’s at his wits end. 

“Who are you?” Dean asks when you show up at his and Sam’s motel room. He looks almost in awe of you, and you shift nervously on your feet. “Who is she?” He asks Sam, and Sam shoots you a sympathetic smile over Dean’s shoulder. 

“I’m a friend. Here to help.” You say, and then you get to work, ignoring the way you can feel Dean’s eyes on you as you and Sam try to figure out how to break the spell. 

Dean without his memories is both heartbreaking, and kind of refreshing. He’s totally unburdened by the things he’s seen and the things he’s done. He’s quicker to smile, to laugh. It sucks though, because there’s nothing there that says your shared history has anything to do with it.

You’ve worked hard to cultivate friendships with these guys who hold everyone at arm’s length. Sam’s a little quicker to form connections than Dean is, but you’ve still tried your hardest to make sure you’re there for them when they need it, and they always return the favor.

Later, when you get back to the Bunker, you’re mentally and physically exhausted. 

Ever since his memory came back, Dean has been ignoring you and you’re trying not to take it too personally. It stings though, to know that when he didn’t know who you were he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but once he remembers you he can’t seem to stand to be in the same room. 

After a much-needed shower, you hit the sheets. You think you’ve only been asleep for a few hours when a creak outside your door wakes you up. You jolt upright at the sight of a figure in your doorway, but relax when you recognize him. 

“It’s me.” Dean says, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of your bed. “Sorry. Thought you were awake still.”

“Eh, sort of. I’m not a heavy sleeper.” You say, stifling a yawn into your hands. 

He smiles gently, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Can’t sleep?” You ask, propping your head on your hand. 

"I–“ he starts, and then stops himself. "Somethin’s eating at me.” He looks you in the eye for the first time in four hours, and you’re taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. “I didn’t remember you." 

Your face falls. You really don’t need a reminder of how he looked right through you like you weren’t even there. "Yeah, I know.” It comes out harsher than you intend. “I was there." 

"No, I-” he stops, frustrated. “I didn’t know you. I didn’t know your name, but I knew you were important. To me." 

Your heart stops. "What? That’s impossible, Dean, Rowena said–" 

“I know what she said. I barely remember anything else. But there’s– bits and pieces. Feelings.” He tells you, and you kind of want to cry, because what if he remembers how nice it was to not have the burden of being a hunter? What if he liked it better than his life now?

“Is that what’s freaking you out?” You ask, sitting up fully now. “That you can’t remember? Or that you _can_?”

Dean swallows hard. “When I opened that door and saw you on the other side, I had no idea who you were, but my heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of my damn chest." 

Your heart is starting to feel the same way, but you can’t say anything. You’re too surprised. 

Dean continues, "Sam told me that I looked like I’d been hit over the head with something heavy. Like there was nothing else in the world I’d rather look at but you." 

You shut your eyes, feeling tears welling in them. You feel Dean’s hand land on your cheek and your eyes flutter open, seeing he’s moved closer, his eyes fierce and intense as he looks at you. 

"I didn’t know you,” he repeats, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone, “But I _wanted_ to. I wanted _you_." 

Your throat is too tight with emotion for words. You’re not even sure you would know how to begin. "Tell me to stop.” He rasps. “Tell me to get the hell out of here and I’ll never bring it up again.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” You say quickly. “I–” you try to find the right words to tell him that this is pretty much all you’ve ever wanted, but nothing comes out but his name. “ _Dean_.” 

It’s all he needs to hear before his mouth descends on yours for a searing, toe-curling kiss. He deepens it immediately, swallowing your gasp as his tongue finds its way inside, his mouth devouring yours.

His large hands cradle your face as he leans over you, his touch so, so gentle, so at odds with the almost desperate way he’s kissing you. “Fuck.” He breathes when you part for some air. “Been wanting to do that for months.”

He dips his head and his lips find your neck, causing you to arch slightly against him. You can’t say anything, even though you want to. You want to tell him you feel the same way, that you’ve been aching for him for _years_ , but your mouth just isn’t cooperating. To be fair, you’re a little occupied.

“Can’t remember ever wanting anything as bad as I want you right now.” He mumbles into your collarbone as his hands work their way up under the thin shirt you’re in. “Even when I didn’t even know my own name, I knew what you meant to me. That’s fuckin’ bizarre, kid.” He says, and you can’t help but laugh breathlessly.

“In a good way?” You ask, your hands weaving into his hair.

“In a good way.” He says, grinning, eyes meeting yours briefly before he dips his head again, his mouth finding yours again and leaving you seeing stars when he kisses you like he needs you to breathe.

His hands pull you tighter against him, his hard body molding to your soft curves, and you moan into his mouth when he curls his tongue against yours, the kiss turning filthy in a matter of seconds. You figure out quickly that making out is a favorite hobby of Dean’s.

You’re not complaining. In fact, you’re pretty sure he could get both of you off just from the way he’s kissing you. It’s like being swept up in a avalanche. You almost can’t keep up. 

He pulls away from you again, looking contrite. “I–” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not– I’m not moving too fast, am I? I just–” He shakes his head. “The things you do to me.” He laughs quietly. 

“Not too fast.” You say. “Just– I’m a little surprised. I didn’t think you thought of me like this.” 

He looks personally affronted that you would think he’s not attracted to you. “You can’t be serious.” His hands are moving again, tugging your pajama shorts down. Your hips lift to help him out, and his fingers drift over your skin so lightly that you break out in goosebumps. 

His hands and mouth find the jut of your hipbones, and you whimper, your bottom lip clenched tight between your teeth as you struggle not to cry out.

“Mmm.” He mumbles against you, mouth moving down your leg. Who knew your knee was an erogenous zone? You shiver as his stubble scrapes over your skin. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you right there.” 

“Dean.” 

His tongue finds your skin again, and he groans as you arch against him again, trying to get his mouth where you want it. His hands reach up and slide under your shirt, and you moan, and you can’t decide where you want to touch him.

Your hands land on his shoulders, and your nails dig in. He groans again, his mouth working towards where you’re aching for him, and when he finally gets there, you almost can’t stand it. 

“Jesus.” He mutters as he mouths at you, causing you to writhe underneath him, his arms coming up to hold your hips to the bed as he works to bring you over the edge. “Kid, you’re killing me.” He growls into your skin. 

He crawls back up to you, his mouth sealing over yours again, and he groans as you immediately deepen it. His arms come up around you, his hands sliding into your hair and tugging. 

Clothes go everywhere as you hurriedly undress him, and things reach a frantic pace again as he seemingly can’t decide where to touch you first. His hands are everywhere. He pulls you close, grinding against you, and you again think – he could make you come just from kissing you. 

Once he enters you, things slow down. 

His eyes lock on yours, and he lets out an exhale. “I knew you.” He says, and it’s so soft you think he didn’t really mean to say it out loud at all. 

“I’d know you, too.” You say, and you’re starting to think that the words you’re both saying aren’t what you really mean at all. “If it happened to me.” Your breath hitches when he thrusts a little harder, with a little more emotion.

He sets a steady pace, one that leaves you both panting against each other’s skin. You’re so lost in him that you don’t realize he’s talking to you until he kisses you, pulling you out of your trance, and starts talking again right after he pulls away.

“Come on, baby. You feel so good. Wanna hear you.” 

“Dean, please.” You plead, not even sure what you’re asking for. 

“That’s it. Come on, baby. _Fuck_.” 

You whimper, pulling him closer, your hips rising to meet his. You call out his name as you come, and he growls into your neck as he thrusts once, twice, three times before he goes limp against you, his hot breath tickling your neck as you both struggle to catch your breath.

When you open your eyes again, Dean’s watching you. His expression is fond, and he presses a kiss to your cheek before brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“I guess you’ve already figured it out, but…” He starts, shaking his head. “I’m kind of in love with you, kid.”

You swallow, feeling choked up again. “Pretty good deal that I feel that way about you too, huh?”

He smiles, and you lean up to kiss him again. He settles, pulling you with him. You turn your face into his neck, breathing him in. 

“Just– don’t do that again, okay?”

He looks at you, his green eyes shining. “Kid, you’re still not getting it. I couldn’t forget you even if I tried.”

You let out a shaky breath. Dean doesn’t do emotions. You know that. But somehow, here you are, having the most meaningful conversation of pretty much you’re entire life. 

“Good to know.” You whisper. 

His arm settles around your waist, and you’re lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his heart and his warmth.


End file.
